more concerned to look at Miss Breton than at any work in leather by
Derome or Bauzonnet. We were thus a good deal occupied, perhaps, with
each other; people came and went, while our heads were bent over a case
of volumes under the window. When we _did_ leave, on the appeal of Mrs.
Breton, we both--both I and Kate--Miss Breton, I mean--saw Allen--at
least I saw him, and believed _she_ did--absorbed in gazing at the
Longepierre Theocritus. He held it rather near his face; the gas, which
had been lit, fell on the shining Golden Fleeces of the cover, on his
long thin hands and eager studious features. It would have been a pity
to disturb him in his ecstasy. I looked at Miss Breton; we both smiled,
and, of course, I presumed we smiled for the same reason.

I happen to know, and unluckily did it happen, the very minute of the
hour when we left Blocksby's. It was a quarter to four o'clock--a church-
tower was chiming the three-quarters in the Strand, and I looked half
mechanically at my own watch, which was five minutes fast. On Sunday I
went down to Oxford, and happened to walk into Allen's rooms. He was
lying on a sofa reading the "Spectator." After chatting a little, I
said, "You took no notice of me, nor of the Bretons yesterday, Allen, at
Blocksby's."

"I didn't see you," he said; and as he was speaking there came a knock at
the door.

"Come in!" cried Allen, and a man entered who was a stranger to me. You
would not have called him a gentleman perhaps. However, I admit that I
am possibly no great judge of a gentleman.

Allen looked up.

"Hullo, Mr. Thomas," he said, "have you come up to see Mr. Mortby?"
mentioning a well-known Oxford bibliophile. "Wharton," he went on,
addressing me, "this is Mr. Thomas from Blocksby's." I bowed. Mr.
Thomas seemed embarrassed. "Can I have a word alone with you, sir?" he
murmured to Allen.

"Certainly," answered Allen, looking rather surprised. "You'll excuse me
a moment, Wharton," he said to me. "Stop and lunch, won't you? There's
the old 'Spectator' for you;" and he led Mr. Thomas into a small den
where he used to hear his pupils read their essays, and so forth.

In a few minutes he came out, looking rather pale, and took an
embarrassed farewell of Mr. Thomas.

"Look here, Wharton," he said to me, "here is a curious business. That
fellow from Blocksby's tells me that the Longepierre Theocritus
disappeared yesterday afternoon; that I was the last person in wh